Smoke Rises
by jerica128
Summary: Nightcrawler died saving the mutant messiah, Hope...or so he thought. He now finds himself trapped and confused in a morphing smart room that seems to be out to get him. New adventures, dangers and a discovery that could change the X-men all forever. -Rated T for now
1. Chapter 1

**Smoke Rises**

**Chapter 1**

A sudden shock burst through his frame, forcing the fibers of his muscles to contract all at once. His body arched backward into an unnaturally contorted position, even for him. His head flung back in a silent scream as his chest expanded, inflating his empty lungs. Then, as quickly as it had started, the electric jolt regressed and released his locked muscles, dropping him down with a loud thud.

The synapses in his brain had been jump-started into consciousness. At first, he felt like he was in more of a haze, like that short moment before you realize you're awake. But soon his senses began to clear through the dreamlike fog and take in his new surroundings.

A deep hum droned in his sensitive ears like a jet engine. Slow breaths brought a cool antiseptic-like smell through his nostrils. He cracked his eyes and was blasted with a white light that seemingly came from everywhere. Though his senses seemed to be working, the rest of his body tingled with numbness for minutes before he could feel anything through his hands and feet properly. He decided that it must be due to the delightful electrocution he just got.

While his body lay still, his thoughts began wander.

What had just happened? His memory was as fuzzy as his blue fingers. He remembered porting in to grab someone…a girl…Hope. Yes, that was her name. And then…something happened…he…WAIT!

A burst of adrenaline jump-started his weak body back to life. His eyes shot wide open, looking everywhere he could; nothing but white. He struggled frantically around, finding his wrists, ankles and even his tail strapped to some sort of table. He tried teleporting out of his restraints…nothing. He went slack and stared wide-eyed at the featureless ceiling. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

~ I…I was dead! ~ His brain screamed.

There had been an excruciating pain through his chest, blood rushing into his lungs and mouth, his eyes going blurry, Hope's terrified face looking down at him, pleading with him…then…the searing white light of this room. Where was he? What was going on? Who had done th…

"Guten tag, mein freund," a genderless, almost computer-like voice echoed throughout the room, instantly silencing the sound of his panicked breathing, "nice of you to finally join us, Mr. Wagner."

Kurt looked all around, trying to find the source of the mechanical voice that had greeted him, finding no source, "Who is this? Where am I?" he pulled hard at his restraints, "What do you want with me!?"

He anxiously waited for some kind of response, but the room remained silent to his demands. The only sound left was his racing heartbeat and breathing, which he tried, with not much luck, to slow down.

~ Don't panic, Kurt. Calm down, this isn't going to help you, ~ he chanted with himself.

A few more deep inhales and exhales finally calmed him back down enough to test the restraints on his wrists again. Not at all surprising, they were still there and still unmoving. Under more scrutiny, he noticed that they were each formed from a solid silver piece of metal with no seams and even more strangely, not even bound physically to the table. The bands were held in place with nothing?

Magneto jumped into his head but was swiftly removed. This was a stretch even for the Mater of Magnetism; and, besides, the guy was kind of, sort of on their side now and also happened to be comatose so that alone marked him off the list quickly.

With a name off the incredibly long list that was forming in his head, he turned back to the bands. Though he couldn't slide them in any direction, he could roll them slightly with his wrists back and forth along the table, hinting at a form of one-point, variable attraction, like some kind of high-tech Velcro. The table itself was smooth and cool against his fur and as white as the simple clothes he wore. In fact, the only color in the entire room was his dark indigo fur and glowing yellow eyes.

They moved their gaze from the bands to the walls, taking in any details they could. The room was of decent size, about 20 by 20 ft. but still completely barren of any discernible features, with no windows, no vents on the ceiling and a complete lack of a door. He might be able to get out of his restraints someday but he'd still have the problem of being "stuck in the box". Even if he could teleport he didn't have any point of reference to go off of. He was trapped in every sense of the word. These "people" knew him well, far too well for any amount of comfort. They even had the audacity to greet him in his own language.

A few more minutes (or hours) went by, he really couldn't tell anymore. He tested the bands again…still there. His stomach growled slightly.

~ Phan…tastisch ~ he rolled his eyes, ~ trapped in a giant "cube", strapped to a wonderfully uncomfortable table and now I am hungry, just perfe… ~ "Mein GOTT!"

The jet-like hum shot through the room and launched the table backward up the wall. He strained his head around as much as he could and watched as the table began to meld into the wall, stopping when they became flush. The floor began to rise in a far corner, forming a type of table. Then, the hum stopped and everything was still again.

"Thank you for the warning!" Kurt yelled sarcastically to the room.

"Hungrig?" the room replied.

"Was?" ~ How did they? ~

"Would you like some dinner?"

He glared at the table, realizing what it was now for, "I do not think this is exactly the best time for a candlelight dinner. I don't even have a tux."

A quieter and steadier hum started this time. He braced himself, but, instead of being thrown around again, the wall opposite him seemed to liquefy and stretch outward. It continued to expand until it finally gave way, revealing a young woman carrying a tray of food. As she finished stepping through, the wall went flat and solidified again behind her.

He looked her over, "are you?"

"No. I am only here to give you food. And no, I cannot tell you who they are," her voice was harsh but her dark hazel eyes had a kind edge to them which was slightly comforting to his current state of mind.

She was an average looking woman but handsome non-the-less, with a round face, large expressive eyes and slender mouth. Her hair was long, dark and pin straight, pulled tightly behind her head in a low ponytail. She wore a dark blue blouse, buttoned to the neck, and black pinstripe pants that fell over plain work shoes. It was strange, but she reminded Kurt of his former teammate, Kitty Pryde. Apart from the hair and eye color, she could have easily passed as her twin.

"What is your name, fraulein?" he asked. Though trying to be courteous, he couldn't help the sharp undertone that managed to mix in with the words.

She sat the tray on the table and turned back towards him, hands folded professionally in front of her, "Cerbera."

He tilted his head inquiringly, "Your real name?"

"Would I have any other?"

"Heh, I guess not," he couldn't help but crack a small smile.

She bowed her head slightly, "enjoy your dinner, Mr. Wagner," she said, staying professional.

"Kurt," he managed to get out before she "molded" back through the wall, leaving him alone yet again.

Once the wall solidified, he heard a short, electric whir and his metal bands released from the wall, dropping him hard to the ground with a crash.

"Sorry about the bump on the head. Ah well, beggars can't be choosers," the room seemed to mock Kurt as he pushed himself, highly ungracefully, to a low crouch. He could already feel his forehead start to swell and heat up, courtesy of the floor.

He gave the ceiling a hard glare then hopped cautiously to the table. The plate looked safe enough: sliced, smoked beef brisket with cubed red potatoes, steamed vegetables in a light butter sauce, glass of ice water; an all-around normal – and quite exquisite – dinner. Unfortunately, many years of experience told him to leave it alone for now, much to the chagrin of his barren stomach, which growled again from the many savory smells that flooded the air.

Controlling his urge to clean the plate, he jumped to a far corner and sat down, curling his tail around his legs. It twitched habitually as he stared at the wall where Cerbera had appeared and disappeared. As the only other living thing he'd seen since he "woke up", she played a large part in his current thoughts. Was she a mutant? Could she phase through walls like Kitty? She sure did look enough like her.

No, the walls were what were special. He moved his hand against its surface. It was perfectly smooth and, at closer examination, slightly transparent with some sort of grid-like pattern underneath which must control its many functions. The light in the room actually came from the entire ceiling, shining through the same type of grid structures as the walls. This was definitely some form of technology far beyond what he understood.

What Hank wouldn't give to get his hands on this place. He smiled inwardly to himself then sighed as the pain finally hit him. What he wouldn't give to see any of them again. He shut his eyes tight as his imagination ran wild with images of what could have happened to all of them after he…left.

Though his memory had been fractured earlier, it was slowly beginning to fill itself in, especially the events right before he…this. He and Rogue had been transporting Hope to Utopia when Bastion attacked. He remembered being shot in the back trying to get to Hope, Rouge's screams as she tried to fend Bastion off, ultimately ending up battered and bleeding at his feet.

He felt his nails dig into the skin of his palms. Dear God let her be alive. Let them all be alive. Let them be safe. Especially those whose friendships he felt he had left broken…like Logan.

Hearing about Logan's involvement in X-Force and what his team did, infuriated Kurt to no end, but…he had always overlooked Logan's dark history in the past hadn't he? Should X-Force be any different in the present? Being here, seemingly back from the dead, forced him to think about how he had reacted when he learned about the covert team. Yes, lies had been told, trust and morals had been completely shattered, but Cyclops was desperate and, unfortunately, Logan was a prime candidate for that field of "work", it was what he was best at.

Kurt knew Logan well enough to know exactly how he had reacted when he heard about his "death". He would lash out at Hope, then at Scott and then he'd blame himself, probably ending up depressed and drinking. Logan would think Kurt hated him for what he did with X-Force. He would think that all he had "accomplished" with them was for nothing.

Though Kurt was against everything Logan and his team had done, he vowed that when he got out of here he would try and forgive him as best as his conscious would allow. It was the least he could do for the man he knew had punished himself enough.

* * *

A few translations: Phantastisch - fantastic, hungrig - hungry, was (vas) - what

On to the next...


	2. Chapter 2

**Smoke Rises**

This storyline falls along the early issues of Wolverine & the X-men and after the Dark Angel Saga in Uncanny X-Force. While the timelines are going to be similar to what actually went on in the comics, I will be changing up stuff to incorporate this story ;)

* * *

**Chapter 2**

A day later…

Kurt hung quietly with his tail from a pole projected out of the glowing ceiling, arms crossed over his chest loosely. There had been no sleep to speak of the night before. What sort of sane person could sleep at a time like that anyway? Instead, he had taken the time to delve further into the alien technology of the room.

Once the lights had dimmed after a few more "hours", he tested some theories he had come up with, and determined that the room was technologically aware; reacting to many of his needs via thought or request. Unfortunately, the request to go outside and see the sunset wasn't part of its functions…but it didn't hurt to ask. It had been interesting playing around with the room, then.

The "dinner" the evening before had been the only meal they had given him and he had refused it. Now if it had been a bowl of grits and a piece of bread, he might have eaten it; but a fancy dinner like that so soon had a caution flag on it as big as Bobby's ego. A caution flag that might have been false advertising.

His body was slowly going into the pain stage of hunger and his head was pounding from lack of water. Though giving in to all of this went against his instincts and initial training, he would have to get something into his stomach soon if there was going to be any chance for him to escape or even last the next few days. Now, if only they would give it to him.

He remained in his hanging position and waited, honestly, too tired to move. They surely wouldn't let him starve would they? He was far too valuable. Or at least that's what he hoped.

He had barely realized the hum had started until he was violently yanked from his hold on the pole and launched down at the back wall; hands, feet and tail locking into place. He inwardly sighed in relief as Cerbera walked through the opposite wall carrying another tray of food. She looked the same today, but wore a crimson blouse instead of blue.

"Good day, Mr. Wagner," she said, still quite professional.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," he said with a breathy groan, "and...It's Kurt."

She sat the tray down, "very well, Kurt. I hope that you will eat this time. I can assure you that there is nothing nefarious mixed in."

"Hmph, and that…is comforting…how?"

She bowed her head, "I will leave you now."

"Wait please, there is…something I must ask," surprisingly, she paused and looked back up. However, now that he had her attention, he had nothing to say. The lack of food was messing with his thought processes and had left his mind completely blank. Just great…

He sighed in failure, "never mind." He would definitely have to plan better next time. Eat, get your brain working properly _then_ ask questions.

She raised an eyebrow and began to turn. In that short moment before he lost sight of her eyes, he noticed a quick change in her retina color from hazel to being ringed with light blue and everything suddenly stopped moving. Kurt recognized this instantly. He had been in something like this before, with Xavier, in one of his psi-links. Could she be a…

~ This conversation will only last a few milliseconds. They do not know I can converse with you this quickly, but you must keep everything short and not react afterwards, ~

…Telepath?

~ Understood ~ he agreed, trying to get his fuzzy thoughts in line, ~ Why am I here? Short enough? ~ He made sure to put them in a tone to voice that he still didn't trust her.

~ Unfortunately, I am left in the dark in most cases and cannot give you much. Nonetheless, I can say that they have extensive experiments they will perform with your abilities in many ways that have not been done with you before. I do not know what they plan on doing with the information they acquire, but you should not take anything that happens here lightly. ~

~ Did they do this to y… ~

~ This is all I can give you now, Kurt. Follow their rules, learn as much as you can, stay alive and stay sane. ~ "I am sorry Kurt, but I cannot answer any questions at this time," she said as she let him out of their telepathic conversation and her eyes reverted to their original color.

"Till next time then, fraulein, and I'll be sure to stay near the wall so I don't get a concussion," he said, giving her as much of a smile as he could manage.

She returned with a quick smile from her eyes, bowed, then walked through the wall. His bands separated and he landed clumsily onto the ground. Managing to stumble/crawl to the table, he pulled the tray to the floor, sat and began to ease his failing systems. He had to hold himself back from eating too fast though; so much food on an empty stomach could ultimately do more harm than good. He finished enough food to satiate his hunger and spent a good twenty minutes sipping on the full pitcher of water, then returned, this time, to a full perch at the top corner of the room to let everything settle.

Though his body would take at least a day to recover completely, his mind was already beginning to clear thanks to the liquids.

Experiments? New ways? Stay sane? The last one was already under question that was certain. Whatever sort of comfort Cerbera had meant to give him, it was not having the desired effect. Life in this little white room was going to get exciting and clearly, not in a good way. But, he hoped that one positive had come out of this…he might have just found an ally.

* * *

Westchester, New York two days later…

Logan walked down the back lawn of the recently opened Jean Grey School of Higher Learning, crossing over the newly laid grass to a small, bordered garden under a wide willow. It had been Kitty's idea to put a memorial garden there for all the friends lost over the years. He was against it at first, saying that they were starting over and didn't need something like that. But, in truth, Logan was glad that she had been so adamant about it, as he knelt by a particular marker.

He stuck a small fencing sword through the soil beside Kurt's stone, the metal reflecting the changing shadows through the leaves like a chromed mirror.

"Thought you'd like that, Elf," he said with his signature smirk.

His smile vanished as he remembered everything that had happened since his best friend was killed a year and a half ago. Would things have been different with all of them if Kurt was still alive? Would the X-men have stayed together? Could one person really be that important for a team? Logan sighed and agreed with himself. If there was anyone that had some sort of chance to fix what had happened, it would have been Kurt. He was always the one who kept them all from tearing at each other's throats, like the only sane person in a group of super powered lunatics.

"Wish ya could see the school Kurt," he looked up the hill through the branches of the willow. The school seemed so quiet now compared to the usual craziness. Logan rolled his eyes and rubbed his brow in muted humor; he knew that wouldn't last long, "you'd probably just laugh at me."

Right on cue, an alarm blared across the lawn. At first, he thought it was another one of the kids blowing up something in the cafeteria or maybe Hank testing another one of his "upgrades" for the school. Those always ended up closing down a Wing for at least a day. He rolled his eyes again and grumbled up the hill but stopped in his tracks when he saw Kitty and Rogue sprinting toward him, a look of shock and panic across their faces.

He met them at the middle of the lawn, "What's goin' on!?"

"Cerebra…" Rogue managed to get out through gasps, "Rachel…you've gotta get in there!"

He took off past them without a word.

They ran through the halls and down to the spherical chamber of Cerebra, where Rachel stood frozen in front of the screens, the same look the other girls had in her eyes, though she managed to keep it from her face. Hank had joined them through the halls and ran up next to Rachel, spectacles down on his face.

"What has got you girls all worked up about!? Who did it find?" he said, looking down at the information screen that held the results, "…this…this can't be right. We calibrated for…"

"What is God's name Hank!?" Logan yelled.

Hank looked up at Logan, more pain in his eyes than surprise, "it's…"

"It's Kurt…" Rachel said, "He's alive."

Logan's stomach jumped into his throat but he kept his body language calm, "it...it must be some kind of malfunction. Are you sure it's not Darkholme's signal?"

Hank, already coming to that conclusion, was typing fast, "Absolutely, even though Darkholme has the same genetics, he has a very slight difference in his signal than Wagner. I made sure to compensate for that alteration. Wagner must have used his teleporting powers just long enough for Cerebra to pick it up." He typed some more, cross-checking the results over and over again, "it's identical to our Nightcrawler, Logan. It's him."

"Where?"

* * *

A short time earlier that day, location unknown…

The first surprise was the extreme growth of the room. It grew from a 20 x 20 cube to almost 100 x 100 ft., complete with multiple pillared levels and a huge expanse of poles. He had jumped into a corner during the start of the change but now found himself at its center on a narrow pedestal about 30 feet off the ground.

The voice echoed through the room like a sports announcer, "For our first event of the day, we will test your agility and stamina under extreme conditions."

As the first time he had heard the voice in days, Kurt was far from impressed with its try at extreme conditions. He smiled wide, "clearly you have never been in the Danger Room, mein freund."

Stopping his humorous rebuttal flat, the pedestal became electrified, giving him an unbearable shock through his feet. He reacted instinctively, porting to the nearest pole.

~ Wait…I can port? When did this… ~ ZAP!

He flipped to another pole, grabbing it with a hand and tail.

"Careful where you tread, Kurt. You may get burned."

Fine, if they were going to play it that way, "En guard."

The room reacted to his challenge, sending him flipping, twisting and porting all over the place. He wasn't allowed to keep any form of contact for more than a second before being shocked.

He couldn't tell how long this "test" would last, or how long he had been going, until the shocks began to catch up with him. The full two days he had had to gain his strength back were definitely not enough for this kind of physical effort. He would miss a handhold and have to port to keep from smashing into the ground, only to appear on an already electrified pole or platform. And to make matters worse, most of these ports were vertical, stealing more of what little energy he had than his normal horizontal jumps.

Completely winded, he did a final hand spring from one level, over an electrified pole to a lower level but slipped in his footing and landed hard on the ground ten feet down. He laid there; muscles shaking from over exertion, lungs burning, hoping he hadn't broken anything from the fall, prepared to take the electrocution that he was sure would come. Instead, he was met with the horribly cheerful tone of the room.

"Well done, Mr. Wagner," the voice said, "You have earned a desirable C-."

He didn't move, "I…will be sure…to study up next time."

"See you this evening, then."

"Wunderbar…" he groaned as the room slowly reverted to its original size.

* * *

For those who do not know, Kurt Darkholme is the Nightcrawler from the Age of Apocalypse universe. He recently opted to temporarily stay in the main Marvel Universe as a member of X-Force.

translations: wunderbar - wonderful

Till next time...


	3. Chapter 3

**Smoke Rises**

**Chapter 3**

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, 'I DON'T KNOW'?!" Logan screamed at Rachel, his claws shooting out in anger dangerously close to her torso.

Much to her credit, Rachel didn't flinch, "like I said, I don't know where the signal originated from," she motioned to the result screens then up to the dome, "all Cerebra told me was that his signal was _recognized_. His location must have been scrambled precisely when he used his powers to not have him show up on the sphere screen. I'm just as confused about it as you are."

"Location scramblers are not entirely unheard of, Rachel," Hank said, still concentrating on the many screens, "but we usually get many locations producing the same signal instead of a complete lack of location. The technology used here must be incredibly advanced to completely blind Cerebra in this way."

"It's like they're taunting us with him," Kitty said quietly, gripping her arms tight. The others could tell that the highs and lows of emotion were taking their toll on her; she looked on the brink of tears. Rogue tried to comfort her but was met with a ghost, her hand passing right through Kitty's shoulder.

Logan was leaning up against a side rail, rubbing his temples in frustration, "What does all this mean for Kurt, Hank?"

"Logan…"

"What…does…it…MEAN?"

Hank sighed, "he…he's on his own until he can get around the scrambler. There's just no way of tracking him. I'm sorry…"

Kitty finally broke and ran through the wall.

"I'm sorry's not good enough," Logan growled and followed after Kitty.

Rogue gave Hank a harsh glare, "ya could have worded that better, sugah. A little bit a hope never hurt anybody."

"As I remember, 'hope' is what put us in this position in the first place," he replied under his breath.

* * *

Logan found Kitty sitting underneath Jean's statue in the main courtyard, leaning down over her knees. She looked so much like the girl Logan had met so many years ago. He remembered how she had reacted to Kurt the first time they met. How she was terrified of him for the longest time. He smiled inwardly at the memory of how good a friend he ended up being for her, for both of them.

He walked over and slumped to the ground beside her.

She turned her head away from him, sniffed and wiped the remnants of tears from her face, "hey."

He didn't look down at her, "hey."

They remained quiet. The sound of the third period bell rang through the halls, followed quickly by the echoes of many feet and the chatter of the oblivious students.

"Should we tell Peter?" Kitty asked, slowly returning to her "headmistress" façade, though still unable to keep back a slight crack in her voice.

Logan thought for a while, "No…he has enough to worry about right now." *

"Yeah, I guess you're right."

Neither mentioned it, but they both knew that Peter and the others on Utopia were most likely already informed about their situation. Logan didn't much care whether they knew or not. This was Kurt, and as long as he got back, alive this time, Logan would do anything and everything to ensure it.

* * *

Meanwhile…

Rachel had been left alone in Cerebra. The screen still lingered on Kurt's picture, the lines "Malfunction: Location Indeterminable" blinking in red underneath. She remembered how she wasn't there when he was killed. How she never let herself truly mourn for him, hoping that somehow everyone was wrong and that he would be home any day. Her heart was both delighted and pained at what was going on. He was alive, yes, but there was no way they could get to him. Even she, with all her "fantastic" psychic powers that everyone always praised, couldn't even give them a starting point.

Her hand came up and touched his face on the screen, ~ If you can hear me, Kurt, please just hold out a bit longer, ~ she gave him a reassuring smile, a tear rolling down her cheek, ~ stay strong ya fuzzy devil. ~

* * *

_Very short chapter and no Kurt. But I felt that this next part with him needed to be by itself._

_* Colossus has assumed the powers of Juggernaut and has personally locked himself up to protect others on Utopia (Uncanny X-men, Vol 2 #10)  
_

_Till next time ;)_


	4. Chapter 4

**Smoke Rises**

**Chapter 4**

The lights slowly brightened in Kurt's room, raising him from an unexpectedly deep sleep. It had been eight days since he "woke-up" and, much to Kurt's surprise, they had been relatively comfortable - at least from a prisoner's standpoint.

The three large meals a day were fantastic for what they were. The cot that molded out of the floor at night was as good as any hotel. And even the twice-a-day "jump and port till you drop" sessions were becoming a strangely welcome routine; the voice had even raised his "grade" to a solid B. Kurt tried hard not to admit it, but he felt more alive than he had in a long time, no pun intended. His endurance was longer, his reflexes were faster and his body felt stronger than it had in over ten years. If he wasn't stuck in this giant cube with no way out, no idea what he was here for and no way of knowing if the friends he had left behind were still alive, he might actually be enjoying himself. Maybe.

His plans for escape were basically nonexistent from his bizarre manner of confinement. And to make things ever better, two days ago, Cerbera had stopped speaking with him. Even his most charming tries at conversation were met with absolutely nothing. She had become as much a wall as those that surrounded him, silent and featureless. Had these people found out about their "conversation" the other day? Had she been punished? None-the-less, he would try again to get something out of her this morning.

He rose from the bed and changed into his provided "uniform," which reminded him more of solid white gymnastic comp shirts and pants than an actual uniform, but they fit him perfectly and were quite comfortable so he didn't really mind that they were incredibly bland.

As per the normal routine, a few minutes after his morning warm-ups of stretching, sit-ups and push-ups, he hopped over to the magnetic wall, lifted his arms to where they would be held and waited. Though he hated being latched to a wall when Cerbera showed up, she had told him to follow their rules, so, regrettably, he abided by them.

Two minutes pass.

Confused, he relaxed down into a crouch and waited some more.

Four minutes pass.

And then, it happened…

The magnetic whir heaved him up from the ground, the wall liquefied in a flurry and not one, but three people entered through the wall.

Two were quite tall and broad (probably men) and the third was smaller but Kurt wasn't able to determine if they were male or female. Each wore shin-length lab coats, hair hoods, masks and dark shaded wrap-around glasses, hiding their features.

"Well, if I didn't feel enough a like lab rat already, I definitely do now," he said, trying to lighten his sinking mood, "heh, I even have the tail."

Typically, they didn't react in the least to his wisecracks.

Both tall figures walked to each side of him while the shorter figure waited as a rolling tray full of lab equipment came through beside them. The men at his sides motioned down the wall, pulling his "wake-up" table out with their fingertips to the center of the room. The Lead, as he decided to call them, moved their fingers across the wall in front of them, pulling up some sort of screen that projected in red through the grid. He didn't know what it was for until the Lead turned and began placing some kind of small sensor patches at precise points along his head, neck and collarbone. Their fingers and hands were very slender and delicate through the latex gloves, hands that could only belong to a woman.

"Gentle with those hands, fraulein, I'm ticklish," he smirked up at her as she placed a sensor on his collarbone.

She barely paused at his assessment, finished placing the last sensor, turned back to the screen and activated them. The screen flashed with his vitals and brain activity graph, then, the needles came out.

Oh, how he **hated** needles. He balled up his fists, flung his eyes to the ceiling and took a long deep breath. The needle stayed in his arm for a while so he assumed they were drawing a few vials of blood. Why they couldn't have done this _before_ he had "woken-up" he didn't know. Well…there was that factor of him not having circulation but…

He began to look around involuntarily when the men each placed a hand on his biceps and ribcage, holding him down tight on the table. He glimpsed the huge biopsy needle in his peripheral vision and suddenly felt the blood rush from his face. That little poke earlier was starting to look really REALLY good now. His eyes went back up to the ceiling for a second time and braced himself.

He watched glimpses of shadows move around him, felt a soft hand on his chest then...pain.

The woman Lead literally drilled the needle down through his skin into the top of his sternum, boring into the bone, no pain relief, no warning. Kurt had felt so many levels of pain it was crazy, but he couldn't help but clench his mouth shut through a scream that vibrated his teeth.

After an agonizing fifteen minutes, he had gone numb and limp. The body could only take sustained pain for so long before it literally shut itself down.

Once the samples were taken, the needle was removed, the wound on his chest was dressed and hands were lifted. He laid there, eyes never leaving the ceiling as the "coats" packed up their equipment and samples and left.

After the wall solidified, the table relaxed into the form of a chair. Still numb from the biopsy, Kurt drooped in his seat like a rag doll, head hanging like dead weight. When he cracked his eyes and noticed the faint red light from the wall screen still glowing to his right, any hopes he had had of being done for the day were dashed. What more did they want now? What more could they take? He still had both kidneys last time he checked.

Luckily, nothing happened for a long while. He took this time to try and recover. Anything more than short gasps were difficult at first, but he managed to get past the pain and stretch his chest to a semi-normal level. He extended his sore fingers out, just realizing they had been clenched since the biopsy. Actually, his whole body felt stiff.

"Good morning, Mr. Wagner. I must apologize for earlier. Hope it wasn't too uncomfortable for you."

"Simply joyous," hate was a strong emotion, but he was definitely beginning to hate that voice.

As normal, its tone remained ever so cheerful, "That is most pleasant to hear. Now, since physically, you are not much use at present; we shall try a more mental trial. I assume you have noticed the sensors?"

"Ja, what about them?"

"As you know, when you teleport, you first must consciously think about the location where you want to go," the voice paused as if they wanted a positive acknowledgement from Kurt. He refused to give them that pleasure. "Your body then reacts and sends you through the Brimstone Dimension to that location," another pause, "though you control your teleportation ability with your conscious mind, your power to teleport is not psionic. Rather, it is the result of an unknown biochemical and biophysical reaction which you _trigger_ mentally and thus brings us to your present test. The sensors are there to measure your vitals as well as your brain activity throughout."

"Okay? Well I hope you know that when you have me stuck like this, you tend to turn off that certain 'reaction'," he said with a scowl.

"Only in terms of your body,"

Confusion was plastered all over his face, "What in the world is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Have you ever considered trying to activate this reaction on an item you were not in physical contact with?"

"Unmöglich!"

The voice was adamant, "Our records show that many years ago, you, as well as your siblings from your common father, Azazel, opened a portal separate from your bodies to the Brimstone Dimension. We believe that this is a repeatable action that you can replicate on your own without added cross-dimensional aid."

Kurt growled, "As I said, it cannot be done!" His anger was starting to peak. They had records, detailed records of everything! How in the world did they get all of this?

Still not taking his words into account, a small table raised up from the floor. On it was a black chess piece with small red stone at its top, a king from the look of it. A second table appeared to the right of the first.

"I would like for you to concentrate on the object setting on the table just like you do with yourself and then teleport it to the second table. You may begin when ready."

If his hands weren't locked down, he would have buried his face in them. First, they drill into his chest with a giant needle and now they want to take some crazy hypothesis and turn him into some type of Star Trek "Transporter"? These people were insane. Yes he could go long distances if he tried, yes he could take many people with him, yes he could port large objects, and yes he and his "siblings" opened a single portal separate from their bodies, but apart from that very particular situation, he had to be…in…contact! What they were asking for was completely impossible. His powers just didn't work like that. Besides, after earlier, a normal port was pretty much out of the question anyway much less something like this.

He sat there, staring at the little black annoyance on the table. The longer he stared at it, the more he thought about what had been asked of him.

In truth, the voice had been accurate in many of its assumptions. He had never thought about porting something he wasn't touching. It wasn't even a factor that was ever considered in his entire career with Xavier, even after that "incident". It just wasn't necessary. Surely teleporting a tiny trinket like this chess piece couldn't serve much purpose could it? And they definitely didn't want him to open a giant portal to another dimension. But, if it _was_ possible for him to accomplish an external port, what would they use the knowledge for? Nothing good he knew.

He glared at the king, "I refuse."

"That is most unfortunate…"

Kurt's scream could be heard for miles. If there was anyone to hear...

* * *

Translations: Ja - yes, Unmöglich - impossible

Finally getting into some of the meat of the story. Till next...


	5. Chapter 5

**Smoke Rises**

**Chapter 5**

Westchester…

Logan walked down the dark-lit hallways into Cerebra, the steam from the large black coffee he held wafting through the air around him. The circles under his eyes were nothing compared to the sunken orbs of the red haired woman in front of the screens.

He shook his head, smirked and sat the coffee beside her, "You've been down here for almost two weeks Red. He ain't goin' nowhere."

Rachel grabbed the cup and began sipping on the potent liquid slowly, "Unfortunately, there's no way we can be sure he's _anywhere_ right now, Logan."

He let out a big sigh; the girl was just as determined as he was to get Kurt back he had to give her that. Over the lasts days, he had gone through almost every form of tracking equipment and strategy he could think of, he even hesitantly contacted Scott on Utopia to see if he might have any luck picking up Kurt's location. Needless to say, that didn't work out well. Logan refused to mention it. The others, meanwhile, had tried to get back to whatever passed as normal for them, though Rogue and Kitty often came down to Cerebra to see any updates that Rachel had for them. She, on the other hand, hadn't left the room unless entirely necessary. It got to the point that Kitty finally had to cancel her classes because she refused to leave.

This was the first day Logan had time to go down to Cerebra since those first few days. Being an integral part of so many teams at once was definitely disrupting his own personal vendettas. Something he would change in an instant if he could, considering the circumstances.

"How often?" he said, leaning his eyes down from the dome to look at the screens.

She pulled up the list of signal hits she had logged, "Twice a day, once around 9 am then a second about 3 pm. The signal would stay constant for almost three hours before stopping. It was pretty much clockwork until four days ago," her eyes sank, "I haven't picked up anything since."

"He's gonna be fine, Red, the Elf's a tough one," he tried to give her some sort of reassuring smile, but he was never good at things like that.

She read through his cover easy, sunken eyes glaring hard, "You as well as I know that Kurt can't handle porting that long without ill effects. Three hours, Logan, twice a day…you can't tell me you're not the slightest bit worried."

He sighed loudly and his voice went firm, "I'm worried out o' my mind, Rach. But, I also know the man we're dealin' with. He's not gonna give up easy. The least we could do is show him the same courtesy. And in your case, get some sort of sleep. We won't have much chance to find him if you're passed out on the keyboards."

"But what if he…?"

"Sleep first. If what you've said is true, than these bastards don't drill 'im till mid-morning, so that leaves you a good 10 hours to get some shut-eye."

She had no choice but to follow the man's orders, even his mind projected his adamancy on the matter. And, though she tried not to, she had to confess she needed sleep, narcolepsy was definitely not something she could get used to and the way it messed with her telepathy just added to the headache Cerebra gave her.

The ineffective cup of coffee was placed back on the board in front of her and she stood, "Fine," she surrendered quietly.

"That's a good girl," he took her seat.

"And what do _you_ plan on doing? I don't think you'll have much luck if you know what I mean?" she motioned to her head.

He started to spin back and forth slowly in the chair, "Eh, don't know. Might get Quentin down here and try 'im out…"

"Don't…you…dare!" it was harsh but had a slight humorous undertone.

He smirked and put his well chewed cigar in his mouth, "G'night Rachel."

She gave a small smile, "Night."

Logan's grin faded as he watched her leave, then turned back to the screens and weaved his fingers together under his chin, rubbing the areas between his knuckles where his claws shot out. No matter how much faith he had in Kurt, he couldn't help but get the nagging feeling Rachel might be right.

He could smell torture all over this, for Kurt and for them. In the time spans between signals, in the way his location was hidden. Whoever held him had intentionally made it possible for them to pick him up and not be able to do anything about it besides watch and wait. They were, as Kitty had said many days before, being taunted with the knowledge of his life. Left only with their imagination on what could be happening to him. And unfortunately, being a man who had lived through so much blood and violence, Logan's imagination was far from gilded in positivity.

* * *

Kurt cracked his eyes groggily, his head was throbbing and his body was stiff as a board. He tried to lift up to loosen his tight muscles but found that he was strapped down to his bed with his bands. An IV drip stretched from his right arm and oxygen was being supplied through tubes around his face. The IV must have been giving him some sort of painkiller, because he felt like the room had been put on a carrousel.

He groaned and shut his eyes, trying to get the grids on the ceiling to stop spinning with no such luck. He shifted around more against the bands, completely unaware how violently he struggled until a hand pushed down on his shoulder.

"Relax, Kurt, you're going to hurt yourself," Cerbera's monotone came calmly from a seat next to him.

"Was…what happened?" he stuttered. She must have clicked something off, because his head was all of a sudden becoming less psychedelic. Last thing he remembered, he had been strapped down to a repetitively electrified chair as punishment for refusing to teleport a chess piece from one table to another – something which he was certain he couldn't do anyway – only minutes after some people dressed up in horror movie medical gear had drilled a hole in his chest. Now he was back in his bed, covered in thick blankets with a hangover that would make even Logan queasy.

"You passed out during their teleportation test, than broke out into a high fever. You have been bedridden for three days." ~ They realized they made a mistake pushing you like that without letting you heal properly. They won't let that happen again next time. ~

~ Oh, joy, ~ "At least I have my own personal doctor," he smirked drunkenly, keeping up with whatever act he was playing for whoever he thought was watching. He had to admit having her communicating with him again was comforting, but as with everything that has happened in this place so far, comfort came with dread. ~ They will try the test again won't they? ~

~ Yes and…no. ~

And comes the dread…"Well, Dr. Cerbera, no matter how much I have _loved_ being your little fuzzy patient over these last days, I would hate to keep you from your work," he tried to sit up, and made a point to show his disappointment at being tied down, "Well this is most inconvenient. What if I have to blow my nose?"

Her lips pursed slightly, almost like she was holding back a laugh. It was reassuring to see some sort of emotion from her, short lived as it was, "You will be given a full day to recover, but they request that you stay in bed until all medication has made its way out of your system. The tests will commence tomorrow morning."

He sighed and lay back on the pillow, "Always something to look forward to." In the few seconds of silence, something else suddenly panged at the edge of his mind, ~ Why are you here? ~ he asked her, ~ Surely I didn't need personal attention while I was in "Joyland". Und I know they can give me food without your help. So… ~

~ I was assigned to you. ~

~ Not good enough, fraulien, ~ his voice was resolute.

She seemed to sigh, ~ they felt a more personal type of interaction would help keep you more compliant, and…less likely to have a mental breakdown. ~

~ Yes, those mental breakdowns are quite problematic to heinous plans aren't they? ~ He paused, ~ How did you end up as one of their… ~

~ I have to go, ~ she cut his last question off quickly.

Their small conversation had only lasted about as long as it took to inhale, but Kurt gained more than what he needed to know from her in that short time. These people had done this kind of thing before and, by the sudden reaction she gave him, Cerbera had once been in his position. How she managed to go from guinea pig to resident waitress and bedside nurse, he didn't know, but he had more than enough time on his hands to find out.

The sound of her heels against the floor stopped at the wall, "Kurt," he glanced over at her, the worry in her voice reflected deep in her eyes, "no matter what you see these next days, think of who you're fighting _for_, nothing else." Then, she left him.

Luckily for her, she wasn't able to see him start to shake like a terrified child. He had been struck cold, all plans he had started formulating were erased from his mind at once by those few words spoken out in the open for all to hear. Then again, why _was_ he so scared? He knew exactly who he was fighting for. He fought for his friends. For the slim chance that he could see them again. Her words had been meant as a warning, yes, but a simple warning he could handle. The fact she felt it was important enough to put a target on her back to tell him was the problem. That, and the way she had said everything.

Certain raises at particular words gave dark clues about what was going to happen to him. None reassuring. The other X-men had all of a sudden become a factor in this game of theirs and all he could do was wait and see how.

* * *

On to the next...

FYI - Quentin Quire is a telepathic student who has a knack for trouble making (he spends most of his time in detention)


	6. Chapter 6

**Smoke Rises**

**Chapter 6**

Cerbera's words had filled Kurt's dreams with dread, both for him and his friends, but also for her. She wouldn't get away with leaking information to him surely. There was punishment for being uncooperative; he found that out the hard way. Or, was that their plan all along? To have him worry over what they would do to her? As she had said in her thoughts, she was there to serve as his human link outside solitary, to keep his mind from losing its hinge on reality so he would perform properly for his captors. Still, no matter if all of this was just a role she was supposed to play; he couldn't help but be concerned for her. It was his nature.

He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The lights reacted to his movement and brightened slowly. Off to the side, he noticed the table was up and already contained his breakfast of fresh fruit, omelet, and milk. He sighed, not surprised at the woman's lack of appearance.

Just for safe measure, to keep up with his fake-but-not-fake concern the Room was most likely expecting, he looked around for her and even worriedly asked the Room where she was. After the usual lack of response, he proceeded to follow through with what he believed they wanted. He rose, stretched, ate, then crouched in the center of the Room and waited.

It didn't take long to respond as it grew, this time, to a long, round ceilinged chamber, poles spanning widthwise across its top like giant monkey bars. A few alternating levels rose from the floor and the Room fell silent.

Bouncing back and forth like a boxer preparing for a match, he readied himself for the floor to become live and send him off. Instead, a low hum sounded next him and three silver rapiers rose from the floor. Their black handles caught the white light like onyx, while each pommel held a single dark red stone.

Kurt hesitantly grabbed and spun one in each hand, flipping the slightly shorter sword with his tail. At first, he didn't know what to think about them. His heart was joyous at having something so familiar and comfortable in his hands, but the reasoning behind them gave him a sudden sinking feeling down in his stomach.

"Glad to see you are doing better today Mr. Wagner," the voice announced.

"I missed you to mein freund," he said contemptuously, "those last few days of _rest_ were quite a drag. Maybe you should invest in a TV sometime. Or even a book. I hear there are quite a few good series out now."

Again ignoring him, the voice continued, "Today we will be testing your combat skills."

"Combat?" Kurt's sinking feeling was beginning to plummet, "With who exactly?"

The hum echoed from the opposite side of the Room as a figure walked through the wall. Its silhouette was nothing familiar or unique, typical strong, slender male form covered in black from head to toe. Kurt was initially relieved at the man's unfamiliarity, nevertheless, the swords in his hands still held their entailed purpose. These were lethal weapons, not shields.

The blade tips clinked on the floor as he let his arms fall to his sides. Before he could refuse verbally, the Room sent them off with the oh-so-pleasant, "Proceed."

The figure launched himself at Kurt, body low, ready for a massive frontal assault. Kurt crouched lower in a defensive stance and tightened his grip on his swords. Even if he was determined not to use the blades on this man, there was no way he was going to let him get his hands on them and end up getting his blue hide diced into cubes. He knew there was more than one way of winning a fight, bloodshed not required.

He easily dodged under the first charge and windmilled to a kick at both his legs. The man tripped but twisted to his feet quickly and came back with an uppercut to Kurt's chin. He managed to jump with the momentum of the punch and flipped backwards up to a higher level. Even with the partial dodge, his jaw still pulsed from the hit.

It had been unnaturally hard, not as much in strength, but where there should have been give where flesh would be, it had been strangely solid. More attacks were thrown all over the place, and with every single one he dodged and countered, he met with the same solid form.

Facts were well lined up when he finally ported past another charge and kicked the "ninja" strategically hard in the back. It landed with a loud metallic clang and slid into a podium head first. Any normal human would have been out cold.

Robots.

He stood up and smiled, relief plastered all over his face. Finally comfortable using the items he still held in his hands, he let the bot rush him again, ported behind it and sliced through its back, revealing all sorts of wires and circuits. The robot faltered mid-stride then was met with Kurt's tail blade through the head. Sparks sizzled like fireworks in the air as the robot fell to the ground in a heap of twitching metal.

Kurt gave a disappointed look at the neutralized robot and mocked the room, knowing, and strangely welcoming, what would happen next, "Surely you can do better than C-3PO here. My hands are not even sweaty."

He spun the swords again and assumed a low foil position as six more bots melded through the walls and surrounded him.

* * *

Five days later, Cerbera still had made no appearance and her warning remained up in the air. He tried to keep these thoughts at the back of his mind for now and concentrate on his new "tests."

The combat sessions, though relatively easy to his skill level, were a much needed bit of stress relief. It was strange how greatly he missed being in the heat of battle. Pushing your body to its limits against a real adversary felt far more accomplishing than being zapped over and over again like a dancing monkey. Though, his past conditioning sessions were definitely proving their worth now as he ported behind one bot, sliced it in half, dodged another's head high kick and neutralized it in no more than two seconds.

Having the rapiers was a wonderful bonus to his sessions as well. Each was designed specifically for him; one right-handed, one left-handed and the last was slightly shorter and even had a handle that worked perfectly with his tail.

But, even stranger than having access to weapons, the Room had decided that he could keep them when not in a session. They gave him three simple stands where he could set the tip of each blade inside to display near his bed. Kurt only really used the stands when eating or sleeping, as he often practiced with the swords when alone to become used to their weight and speed. By this current session, his prowess with each sword was at its peak.

There were ten bots in the room today, minus the two he had just taken out. Four were very large, "brutes" as Kurt called them, built for power and not speed; easily dealt with if one managed to get past the fists. The other six were slender and fast like the first "ninja" bot. These robots also seemed to have a higher level of programming than their larger counterparts, easily able to make logical defensive and offensive measures against Kurt's attacks.

After many bruises and possible cracked ribs over previous days, he found it was smarter to first get rid of the ones that could actually lay a hand on him, then deal with the lumbering, steel gargoyles later.

The brutes had been left behind on the floor, trying but failing miserably to climb up the sides of a 15 foot platform. The ninjas quickly leapt from smaller platforms and rushed Kurt almost simultaneously with feet and fists.

One bot, whose arm had already been removed, managed to grab his tail.

"Bad move, mein freund," Kurt flipped the swords backwards in his hands, stabbed behind him then flung the bot over his shoulders into two others. After landing, its head was sliced off at the shoulders, rendering it inert.

"Just as forewarning, the tail…off limits," he said with a grin to the metal head at his feet.

Three more ninjas left. The two that had been knocked over by Mr. Tail Violator kip-upped to their feet and ran to each side of him. The third was suddenly nowhere to be seen.

Kurt ported to a pole about twenty feet away and five feet higher to try and get a better view of the area. The brutes noticed his movement and ran down under him, finding small handholds on lower platforms and climbing up, though still far from dealing any damage. The two remaining ninja bots found a pole of their own and began swinging nearer.

In the time it took Kurt to worry about where the last bot was hiding, the other two had come at him, one punching his jaw and the second double kicking his opposite side. The force from both strikes ripped off his handholds and sent him spinning to the floor. He landed hard, sending two swords skidding across the ground in opposite directions. Before he was able to catch his breath and run for the nearest sword, a huge fist to the jaw threw him into the side of a platform. A quick gush of blood down his throat sent him into a quick convulsion, but he managed to keep himself from choking and clear his whirling head enough to get his wits together before the brute who had struck him rushed again. With only his right-handed sword left, Kurt ported behind the brute, let it run into the wall and jammed his last blade through its back.

Three brutes. Three ninjas.

The slight sound of a metal blade scraping on the ground was his only warning before another bot, a ninja, ran up behind him and sliced at his back. Kurt ported fast, managing to only get grazed on the shoulder. He landed and turned quickly as the now armed ninja charged at him again like a knight with a javelin, wide open. Clearly unimpressed, Kurt side-stepped out of its way in one smooth movement and sliced it in half as it ran past.

"Amateur," he grinned with a shake of the head.

Grabbing his second sword out of its hand, he managed to duck and take out another brute on its way down at him. The final two brutes went down together as both got a sword thrown through their heads.

All that was left were the last two ninja bots, one who was currently running at him and the other who was still playing "hide and go seek."

There were a few more dodges as Kurt flipped over to his swords, but once armed, the one-on-one confrontation was simple to reprimand. He would dip under a kick, slice at an arm; jump past a punch, slice a leg. By the time he finished this bot off, it looked like it should have been saying a few lines out of a Monty Python movie.

And then…silence.

This last bot's distraction had worked, and most painfully. Kurt stood there, breathing hard, his white clothes now spattered with red from the lucky hits the other bots had managed to get on him. The cut on his back was deeper than at first thought and still bled freely, making the fabric of his shirt cling and pull at his fur ever so uncomfortably. It pulsed hard along with his swollen lip and jaw. The kick to the side was also making a fine bruise but, luckily, it seemed superficial.

Kurt looked around the seemingly empty room; he knew there was another bot out there. His count at the beginning of each session had never been off before.

"Marco…" he said quietly, trying to get an answer.

Nothing.

He ported to the highest platform to see if he could get a better vantage point, "Marco…" he said again.

The longer he had to wait, the more the pain increased, but he didn't want to drop his guard to dress his wounds for fear of attack, so all he could do was stand there and wonder what this last bot was doing. His tail sword was still out there and, if he was a guessing man, it was probably now in enemy hands.

He knelt down into a crouch, leaning on his swords for support but remaining alert. What were they going for now? The Room had a knack for nasty surprises, but having him bleed out like this was most likely not on their agenda.

Was this bot special? Did it have some type of alternate programming? It didn't seem any different from the others at first glance. He tried to think back to when they came through the walls earlier. Four brutes, six ninjas, ten in all. He had taken the high ground early, been followed, then…wait. Out of the six ninja bots, there had been one that was shorter, more bulky but not so much as to hinder its speed. There was something else that Kurt couldn't quite put a finger on. A familiarity with the way it moved. It was almost like…

SNIKT!

* * *

bum Bum BUM!


	7. Chapter 7

**Smoke Rises**

So sorry for the VERY long gap between chapters, been quite busy lately. Anyways, on with the action...

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Kurt had been trained for this, all of the X-men had. If one of them ever fell under some sort of outside control, the others were well prepared to stop them if necessary.

Their sessions were aimed at disabling only and were often performed in teams to try and keep fights short and less likely to end in severe injuries to either party. That is, unless you were training with Wolverine.

He had a habit of putting everyone into one-on-one sessions against each other, his reasoning being, "Even though you're part of a team, no matter how hard you try ya won't be with that team 24/7. Better to up yer game now than get killed later…"

Well, if there was ever a time to up his game, it was now.

Already injured, bleeding and exhausted from nine other robots, it was all Kurt could do to keep out of claw reach. Hoping to get some chance to rest, he led the Wolverbot to one end of the long room then ported all the way to the opposite side. Though porting used up a good amount of vital energy, it would be around a minute before the clawed robot could get back to his position, so, Kurt decided any time to think and breath was worth the risk.

As he listened to its heavy footsteps grow closer, he flashed back to a particularly bad Danger Room Session against Logan. Fights like this had been routine training for both of them as they often sparred for fun outside of the Danger Room, but these never got serious. This DRS had been completely different, Logan had amped up the challenge level to full strength, putting Kurt against an all-out, feral raged, Wolverine doppelganger. Kurt had beaten the double, but how he couldn't quite remember?

The bot cut his thoughts off suddenly, coming up low behind him, flinging its body with the same iconic jab of his former teammate. A quick turn, block with a sword, grab with the tail and the bot was grounded. He ported again, just fast enough to miss getting his foot amputated.

He was glad that the bot wasn't a complete duplicate. It was slightly slower than the real deal, though not by much, and its claws were clearly not made of the same indestructible adamantium as his swords could block its strikes easily. Its "skin", on the other hand, seemed to have more than just gears and wires under the black cloth. Kurt's strikes and parries merely cut through the fabric and glanced off its surface, having no effect on the understructure. He was wasting his time with the swords and the bot was catching up with him. He had to end this fast before he got shish-kabobed.

Then, the solution hit him.

After another quick dodge, Kurt jammed his swords into the floor, let the bot rush at him, ported onto its back, grabbed both its arms then ported again, removing them at the shoulders. The armless robot was thrown off balance and fell hard to the ground, but before it could manage to roll up to its knees, Kurt flipped forward and launched its own claws through its head. The second it landed, the realization of what he just did finally hit him and he froze as he was thrust back into the Danger Room.

Back then, his answer for stopping a raged Wolverine had been spur-of-the-moment. The only real thoughts he had was that the simulation wasn't real and that, even if it was, Logan had an extremely good healing factor so he would be okay in the end anyway. Clearly, that wasn't the case. Logan's reaction had proved it.

His face had been a mix of surprise, approval and a twinge of anger. Kurt had been confused; surely he had done a good job, he won didn't he? And, though his manner of success had been far out of his normal comfort range, he expected some kind positive response from Logan for his spontaneity.

"What…did I do?" he had asked, triumphant smile fading quickly.

Logan only raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Congratulations Kurt, I think you just killed me…"

Suddenly terrified of the duplication at his feet, he backed away from it in shock, then quickly stopped himself and erased any form of emotion that had managed to come to his face.

This was the reaction they wanted. If he freaked out and made a scene about the way he had disposed of this robot they would be gaining valuable information about his teammates and that, he would not allow. This had just been another robot, another piece of metal they had thrown at him and he would treat it as such.

He straightened up and waited like he always did at the end of their sessions. The Room took a few minutes before it reverted back to its initial size, possibly waiting to see if time would elicit some kind of emotional response from him.

"Congratulations Mr. Wagner, you have received a B- for today's training," he wasn't sure, but the voice sounded slightly disappointed.

He expected a lower "grade" today. If one didn't give them what they wanted, one didn't get the points.

He walked up to his bed, hopped onto it and pulled his knees up to his chin, "Enjoyed the change of scenery today," he said with an intentional lightness his tone, "I cannot wait to see what you will come up with this afternoon."

"There will be only one training session today, we will commence tomorrow morning. Enjoy your afternoon off Mr. Wagner."

His eyes narrowed sharply, "Looking forward to it."

Once he was "alone", he sent off to tend to his wounds. His badly split lip and the many bruises that had swollen up under his fur were annoying but ignored. On-the-other-hand, the large cut on his back was suddenly screaming for his attention. It stung like knives and felt like it still bled in some areas although it had mostly turned into a huge crusty mass that covered a good portion of his back.

Though difficult at first with all the dried blood holding it to his fur, he managed to meander his ruined shirt off with his good arm, rip it into a long, wide strip and wrap it around his chest and shoulder, tying it with the aid of his tail. It would have to do as a tourniquet for now since he had no other means of medical help.

The cloth fit tight and held well for what it was, so, overall, his doctorial skills on himself were not bad at all. It still would have been nice to have had a second pair of eyes to look at it, however. An injury on the back wasn't something someone could patch up very well on their own, even one as flexible as he.

Maybe that was why The Room had decided to only have a single session, to give him a little while to heal. He shook that thought away quickly. No, they weren't that generous. They were back in whatever little room they were in, coming up with some sort of scenario to throw at him tomorrow, trying to figure out how best to get something that could be used against the others. As he had already decided, it would all be for naught.

Though it had been completely unintentional, he was glad he hadn't held back earlier. He showed them that having a personal attachment to a mechanical double wouldn't change his reactions. He showed that he wasn't going to be their confidential guidebook to get information to use against the others. Just because he had been closer to the pacifist side of the fence throughout his time with the X-men did not mean he was going to let himself be beaten into compliance for them. If they wanted to send him into giant emotional flurries for taking out robot versions of his friends, let them try. Robots were robots and it took much more than that to break him.

* * *

Hope to get the next chapter up a little sooner than this one so keep a look out ;)

Things be gettin' interesting...


End file.
